


The Dark Years

by JovialHarp5159



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, But I'm kind of not?, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, I'd say I'm sorry, Implied/Referenced Underage, Kink Meme, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscarriage, Multi, Omegaverse, So much angst, mentioned mpreg, spoilers for chapters 13/14
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JovialHarp5159/pseuds/JovialHarp5159
Summary: Prompto always knew /he/ would come back. Where most of the remaining trio saw him as being nowhere, he saw him rather, as everywhere. In the way that the heartiest crops stubbornly poked new leaves through hard-packed, nutrient deficient soil. In the nervous laugh shared between a group of hunters after a particularly grueling fight, in warm walnut eyes smiling up at him over coffee, a ridiculous ritual that was followed, to bring some sense of normalcy to the cold, unyielding hell the world had become. He shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nope. Those thoughts are treasonous. There was before, and after, never both. Two lives, two loves, never intersecting.Orrrrr, what happens in the dark years, and how Prompto found himself in a very confusing, very painful situation. Kinkmeme fill, kinda. started off as one, and my brain went feral, as it so often does.





	1. Cold as Ice

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR CHAPTERS 13/14, YO. YE BE WARNED.  
> OK SO. This fandom has no Prompto/Talcott action. and I know, I know what y'all are thinking. "ewwww, he's a little kiiiiiddddd." but check it. In this fic, Talcott is 10 in the regular game (Which I have just now decided. Since we reeeeally aren't given much information about him. Like at all.) and the brunt of the action will take place in year 9, before our prodigal son returns, which puts Prom at 29, and T at 19. Their relationship started, most likely when T was 17, buuuuut I'm not planning on writing any sexually explicit content for them until he's 18, so no need for the underage tag. If that changes, I'll re-tag accordingly. This fic is tagged as both Prompto/Talcott, and Prompto/Noctis, because there are past mentions of their relationship, and of course, eventually he will return. so. that'll be a bit of a sticky wicket. ANYWAY. 
> 
> original kinkmeme request was for aged up Talcott having a crush on Prompto, bonus points for Noctis and Prompto having been an item in the past!

If Prompto had the ability to be hungry, the basic need would have been totally abandoned, watching Gladio shovel noodles into his gob. He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure why but everything the behemoth of a man did pissed him off these days. It wasn’t even often that he saw the former shield anymore, you’d think that he’d be able to stand sharing a simple “meal”, if it could be called that with him, but Prompto guessed that maybe his patience was just one of the things that fell apart when /he/ had disappeared. So much was rendered non-functioning, when the chosen had disappeared into the crystal... the days grew shorter, the nights grew longer, colder, until everlasting darkness and chill was all that was left behind. It was a wonder anyone was left. The first year had been hell. Prompto had nearly died more times than he cared to count, and probably would have, if Gladio and Ignis hadn’t insisted on keeping up their group. In times when he was alone, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling of his apartment, Prompto wondered if they hadn’t stuck around out of some misplaced sense of duty to the king they could no longer see to serve. That was the position that he had always maintained. He wasn’t gone. Where Gladio insisted that he was nowhere, Prompto saw him rather, as everywhere. In the way that the heartiest crops stubbornly poked new leaves through hard-packed, nutrient deficient soil. In the nervous laugh shared between a group of hunters after a particularly grueling fight, in warm walnut eyes smiling up at him over coffee, a ridiculous ritual that was followed, to bring some sense of normalcy to the cold, unyielding hell the world had become. He shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nope. Those thoughts are treasonous. There was before, and after, never both. Two lives, two loves, never intersecting.

“Are you feeling alright, Talcott? You seem… troubled.” Ignis asks in a voice like silk. Prompto blinks a few times, slowly, and cocks his head a few degrees, gently scenting the air. Exhaustion, worry… excitement? He wasn’t sure. His sense of smell had gone… off, by the fifth year. The starscourge had affected all dynamics differently, betas losing the ability to scent at all, people switching dynamics with no explanation whatsoever, alphas who had to be confronted and tranqued when they went into rut and couldn’t come back down, and that wasn’t even to mention the now widely accepted medical fact that one out of every 3-4 omega pregnancies ended in miscarriage, regardless of gender. The world was a mad fucked place, these days.

“I’m fine. Headache. A-actually, I was going to head out soon? If you guys don’t mind?” Ignis hums his agreement, and Gladio thumps the kid on the back.

“Hot date?” he asks in that gruff way of his, that age hasn’t smoothed over in the slightest. Talcott blushes ever so slightly, and looks down.

“uh no, just exhausted.” He grabs his emptied plate, and goes to stand. Ignis wishes him well, and Gladio grunts in a noncommittal way. Prompto only speaks, when he realizes that the kids eyes are hovering over him.

“Be careful out there.” He offers simply, reaching down to toy with the well-worn leather band he still wore. The boy smirks and half salutes.

“Yeah, yeah. What are you, my dad?” Prompto forces himself to smirk, but the remark cuts, fits directly into a chink in his outer armor, and aches. 29 isn’t that old. The conversation in Talcotts absence is light, the way it always is. Pleasant, but utterly unimportant. Nothing deeper than surface pleasantries, and certainly not what you’d expect of friends who literally watched the world descend into darkness together. After what feels like forever, Ignis says that he’d best get to bed if he plans on being up at any decent time in the morning, or what passes for it these days, and Prompto grumbles his agreement. They exchange the expected farewells, promise to keep in touch, though they all know by this point they won’t. Prompto shuffles through Lestallums fluorescent lit city streets, and wills himself not to conjure up memories of a past long ago. He hauls himself up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, and yawns widely. Gods, when was the last time he’d slept? He fits the small golden key into the lock of the door, and twists it easily, gently shouldering the door open. The lights of the living room are doused, and the apartment appears abandoned.

“T? you awake?” he calls out.

“Mmn, barely.” The boy mumbles from the single bedroom. Prompto yawns and starts to trudge in the direction of the voice, before a simple entreaty stops him. “Shoes, babe.” He scoffs, and toes off his combat boots, kicking them toward the square of tile by the front door. He yawns again, and locks both deadbolts, before turning to shuffle into the bedroom. he takes off his vest, lets it fall with an unceremonious kathunk to the carpeted floor, strips down to his boxers, and slides into the bed.

“Missed you.” Talcott murmurs sleepily, as he rolls over, cuddles into the new warmth. Prompto chuckles gently, kisses his lover on top of the head.

“Wasn’t even gone that long, hon.”

“Long enough. Smelly alpha.” He jokes, tilting his face up toward the blonds, who rolls his eyes by way of response.

“Stubborn omega.” He mutters, his speech slurred with exhaustion as he leans in for the faintest, sweetest of kisses. Talcott laughs quietly, and nestles his head into the curve of Promptos neck, the way he has hundreds of times before. So sweet, so natural is the moment, that Prompto can almost convince himself that he doesn’t hear the ghost of a honeyed tenor whispering to him as he drifts off. “Night, blondie.”

***

_“What’s it gonna be like?” **he** asks nervously, casting the line into the nebulous blue of the pond, for what feels like the thousandth time that afternoon. It’s his way of avoiding the conversation. Of redirecting his energy somewhere he feels he can control. The alpha knows this because he knows his raven-haired compatriot as well as the back of his own hand. _

_“Hot. Itchy. Angry. Weirdly not that bad.” The blond drawls, flipping yet again, through the newest photos saved natively on his camera. “Why are you so worried about it anyway?”_

**_He_ ** _scoffs, and pulls the line back in, flicking a deft hand and casting the rod and reel into the pocket dimension designed for weaponry and defense, occasionally ameliorated for pastimes deemed more befitting the 17 year old prince._

_“I’m not.” He huffs, jutting his chin out, like the defiant act made his hollow words that much more true. Blonde eyebrows shoot upward, and a smirk hangs on fine features._

_“Could have fooled me.” The alpha teases. When the other fails to respond, he reaches out and tugs at the edge of his school blazer. “Babe… come on.” He prods. **He** says nothing, but moves to lean against his boyfriend. _

_“Was it… did you have to go through it alone?” **he** asks quietly, his words taking on a worried edge so minute that most people would overlook it. _

_“I mean… yeah. M-most people usually do, or with another alpha. It’s dangerous to be around omegas.” He says quietly, carding gentle hands through sable hair, as soft as spun silk. The older boy says nothing, and the silence between them draws out, as he traces patterns in the freckles of the blondes arm. When he next speaks, it’s with a broken, halting tone._

_“Will… you call me? D-during?” **he** asks, expertly avoiding eye contact. Prompto laughs, and taps his forehead against the others, oceanic eyes settling firmly into icy ones. _

_“No.” he says simply, smirking, when **he** starts to pull away. “because I’ll be with you.” **He** blinks a few times, rapidly, before protesting. _

_“No way! So you can see me all sex crazed, and desperate, and… weak?! Yeah, right!” Prompto smiles warmly, and reaches up to cup **his** face._

_“There’s no way that I’m letting my kitten go through his first rut alone.” **He** sighs long-sufferingly, but ghosts a gentle kiss across warm, chapped lips. _

_“Thanks, blondie.”_

***

Prompto’s become accustomed to the dreams. “Gotten used to” isn’t exactly the right phrase, he doubts if he would ever get used to the well of emotion they bring up, but he has come to expect them, a brief, burning spot of warmth in these nine years of darkness. He’s not at all surprised, to find that his pillow is damp, when he moves his head. It always was, after dreams of **him**. He would pretend, as he always did, that it was merely sweat and not the validation of emotions he stubbornly refused to feel. Talcott, for his part, would see the aqueous pillow case and worry silently but smile the same supportive smile he always did. That was their unspoken pact. It didn’t get talked about, didn’t get acknowledged, because it didn’t need to. Or rather, it needed not to. Endorsing discussion of what was, always threw a giant wrench into what is, and served only to tempt a fight that both Talcott and Prompto were too exhausted to deal with again. Once, maybe twice, if it was a bad year “the argument” as Talcott had not so lovingly come to call it got brought up, and the results were almost always the same. Doors slammed, insults tossed, and once, just once, a heat high Prompto had taken off wordlessly, disappeared into the desert around Hammerhead and hadn’t come back until three weeks later, bleeding and very much humbled, but steadfast in his refusal to discuss before. Talcott had treated his wounds, silently. They hadn’t talked until… they hadn’t talked for a while.

Prompto heaved a sigh, and traced over the scars on his side, every bit as real as the metaphorical ones on his heart. Treasonous or not, Talcott was good to him. Was one of the few people that were. He rubbed his eyes blearily, and sat up. The other side of the bed was cold, and empty, which was odd. “T?” he called out. No answer. “T-cott?” nothing. “Baby?” he wasn’t surprised this time, when no response came. He yawned, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching and willing tired, overused muscles to cooperate. He reached out blindly for the lamp on the night stand, nimble fingers quickly finding the pull-chord and illuminating the small space in an eerie half-light. That’s all anything was these days, half-light, half-days, half-lived. Prompto shook his head, in an effort to dispel the depressing thoughts. It really wasn’t that bad. They’d made a life here. An existence, a family, of sorts. And family probably shouldn’t let family wander around the great daemon infested yonder, without at the very least checking where they might be. In case... in case.

He paced to the closet and threw on a thermal shirt, and a pair of dark wash jeans. He stopped by the dresser and dug around for fresh socks, disturbing the methodized piles therein.

***

_“Prompto Argentum, seriously?! You fight daemons all day, no problems but you can’t be fucked to get a pair of socks without destroying everything I’ve worked for?!” The omega whined pathetically. Prompto smirked, and scooped the boy up, falling onto the bed with him, laughing maniacally._

_“It’s socks, babe, you’ll live!” Talcott growls, and punches him in the chest, attempting and failing at hiding the smile plastered onto his face._

_“How am I supposed to make a proper nest with you running through our entire apartment like a garulessa in a china shop?” he pouts. Prompto smirks and leans his forehead against his lovers gently._

_“Okay, you’re right. Forgive me?”_

_“only because you’re cute, smelly alpha.”_

***

He sits on the arm of the couch and pulls his combat boots on, lacing them with the ease of reiterative practice. He stands and pops his neck, before flicking off the lights, and locking the door behind him. He bounds down the stairs two at a time, hopping, when he reaches the flat expanse at ground level. He digs his hands into vest pockets, examining the ground just in front of his feet as he clomped heavily toward the Leville.

The lobby was quiet, with only a few volunteers shuffling around, tending to clerical duties, making lists of jobs that needed done, ranking bounties for hunts, cataloguing supplies. He slipped, mostly unnoticed, toward the large corkboard hung near the stairs. The list of hunts this week was surprisingly small, but difficult nonetheless. Mostly supply retrieval, and search and rescue. Things that required hunters to be quick on their feet. He scanned the list, and noted Talcotts signature, cramped but immaculate, slanted slightly to the right on a hunt near the ruins of Insomnia, a search and rescue mission for a small band of relatively inexperienced hunters, missing for two weeks now. He sighed.

_'Doubt if that goes well. Fuck, that’s so far out.'_

“Not planning to go too far I trust, Prompto?” The smooth, accented voice broke him from his reverie.

“Ignis? Why… why are you h-here of all places?” he asks, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“Looking for you, of course.” Comes the simple reply from the former tactician, leaning on one of the previously ornate pillars, as though he had always belonged there.

“Me? And how did you know I’d be here?” Prompto asks in a quiet voice. The older man smirks, just a touch, a flicker of a thing that’s there and gone in the blink of an eye.

“Where else would you come to look for him, Prompto?”

His heart dropped, and his blood ran cold. This conversation had been long in coming.


	2. Don't You Know Who I Think I am?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more flashbacks of Talcott and Promptos life together, and a long awaited conversation With Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mk, so it's come to my attention that this story reads a little confusingly. So the italicized bits are flashbacks, and the other bits are current action. *** denote a change from one to the other. the hes, that are bolded are referring to none other than our prodigal king.

_Under the dirty yellow glow of the light’s, the only thing that keeps the constant dark at bay, the pair shamble back to their apartment, the quiet stretching out comfortably between them. They’re both fatigued, bone tired, covered head to toe in a thin layer of grime, a questionable mixture of sweat, dirt, blood, and daemon ichor. The “hunt” they had been assigned to amounted to nothing more than the simple task of survival. ‘God’s… I **hate** diversion tactics’ Talcott thinks to  himself. He chuckles quietly sliding an impish smile at Prompto, a true embodiment of “smelly alpha” today. _

_“We Just gonna crash babe? Or…” he trails off, let the unspoken offer hang. It didn’t need to be spoken, nor did it need to be answered, at least not verbally, a dark grin already spreading across Prompto’s weary face, his eyes shining briefly, alpha bright._

_Prompto feels a hitch in his chest, a skip of the beat, a break in the rhythm of his heart at the sight of the omega beckoning him, and he finds that his strides are longer, his pace faster, unconsciously. A slight flush rises to his cheeks, and suddenly hes grateful for the layer of dirt and grime. He didn’t want to let on just how much the brunet ensorcelled him. How the simplest movements could still give him pause, draw him in. His hand grabs at Talcott’s forearm, fingers digging into tender flesh, and a nervous laugh bubbles up his throat, bursting and awkwardly tumbling into the silent streets around them, as they start to climb the stairs. His grip relents, and a gentle hand slides down, ghosting past the wrist and intertwining into fingers, a gentle squeeze, a brief moment of adoration as Talcott fumbles with the keys, twisting the doorknob and throwing the door open unceremoniously.  As Prompto shuts the door behind him, locking it without looking their bodies are pressed together, hands disengage to wrap arms around the warm presence of the omega, and a soft, lingering kiss connects the two as they stumblingly navigate the task of kicking shoes off into a pile. Talcott gasps as Prompto slides his tongue out to tenderly lave at his bottom lip and the alpha shivers, his own parted lips giving a mute echo of the omega’s response, a hot breath, gentle but needy exclamation born from the innermost depths of the lungs. They move toward the bedroom with renewed purpose, shedding clothes as they go_

_Prompto loses his last scrap of clothing, boxers, by the foot of the bed, and realizes that his partner, thankfully is every bit as bare as he wants him to be. Talcott melts into the caress of the alpha, before slowly shifting his weight backwards, pulling the two down onto the bed, a tangle of entwined limbs, a symphony of little nothings, soft sighs and gentle moans elicited from the pair. The blonds expert fingers, covered in callouses from the years of darkness, of desperate, necessary violence, work their way down to his hips, nails digging in for a single moment, before they trail back up, to ghost over the faded scars, black and jagged. The smaller male whimpers, and Prompto quickly jerks his hands away. Reverent, trembling hands climb ever steadily upward, wrapping around a freckle kissed neck, pulling down eagerly for another passionate kiss as the alpha’s delicate touch finds the trail of slick, warm and oh so enticing, already welling from him._

_Prompto growls softly and pulls away, the alchemy of not only biology, but love and dedication burrowing into his mind and nose. The omega smells woodsy, and sweet all at once, a combination that’s uniquely him. Uniquely home, Prompto thinks as he brings his hand back up, to pink lips swollen from feverish kisses, and takes a slow lick of the slick covered digits before replacing his hand, a finger gently probing, as though silently begging permission.  Talcott shivers, brown eyes darkening, at the lascivious scene above he provides. Prompto knows his every movement drips confidence, can smell it in the jumble of scents that is them, even with his sense of smell dampened as it is. Ironically, he feels the most grounded, the most comfortable, the most commanding in these stolen moments, when he’s dead exhausted from a full day at playing hero. Or being the hero. After all the heroes of mortals were just playthings to gods, weren’t they? Hadn’t his time with Noctis taught him that? ‘Stop. Stop thinking.’ a small moan from Talcott urges him on, and the finger slips in easily. A second joins it at the whining insistence of the omega, and Prompto smirks warmly down at him. Each movement extracts a new sound, a subtle change in movement, and he was all but playing the omega like a fine instrument. He leans down, his hand never skipping a beat, to take a stiff nipple in between his lips, his tongue darting across the engorged flesh, and a bright gasp reaches his hear, much to his satisfaction. His hand moves increasingly faster, not that he’s conscious of it. He’s entirely lost in the revelry of pleasing his partner, that is, until a shimmering cry breeches through his concentration, tearing at his brain and causing a sudden shock of want to thrum through him. His cock twitches, and he all but whines. He pulls away slowly, panting as he stares down at the omega, taking in the sight of the dark blush painted on his usually so placid face, as he curves his fingers just so, to reach a deeper angle. That same shimmering, dual toned mating call pulls at him again, and he pulls his heavily slicked fingers away. He smirks confidently, as he rubs the slick into his own member, and pushes Talcotts knees apart. The omega shivers and closes his eyes._

_“Prom. Please.” Ooh, he’s needy. It’s been so long since Promptos heard that tone, and really how long had it been since they’ve had a chance to be together like this? He growls quietly._

_“Please what?” his hips sway forward the tiniest bit, the head of his dick brushing just against the others ass. Talcott whines loudly and arches his back, trying in vain to get even a fraction of an inch closer._

_“Please fuck me!” he’s frustrated, and gods, its so amazing, to see the near legendary daemon slayer, who could easily hold his own against unimaginable hordes mewling and begging underneath him. He snaps his hips forward, shallowly, just enough to barely stretch the rim before pulling back._

_“hmm? You want me to? You sure?” his tone is disinterested, teasing, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to whimper, himself. Talcott hisses, and he smirks, closing the distance in record speed, a quick thrust breaching him, and drawing a dark heavy moan from the omegas lips. Prompto shivers, and pulls back, thrusting more gently forward, hilting him effortlessly, with a deep, near feral growl. Talcott shivers around the cock inside him, and balls his fists up into the sheets, panting quietly, struggling for the breath that evades him. Prompto, despite the many times that this has happened before, always managed to make him feel like every time was the first time, and his mind swirled with raw lust and desperate need as he uses his legs to try to pull Prompto closer, wordlessly begging for as much of the alpha as possible. Their time apart shows again, in how fast Promptos moving now. His hips snap forward with reckless abandon, and he growls out filthy nothings into the soft shell of Talcotts ear. Talcott moans louder and louder, blunted claws digging into Promptos shoulders, thighs, hips, any area that he can gain purchase on._

_“Knot me.” His request is more statement, more demand than anything, and is makes Prompto smirk just slightly. Talcott fails to see the humor in the situation, and hisses again, digging his claws in to soft shoulders. The scent of his own blood takes the alpha off guard, and his eyes flash brightly._

_“Beg.” He snarls against the delicate skin of Talcotts neck._

_“What?” he sounds flabbergasted and exhausted all at once, but when Prompto slows and stops his movement, he whines loudly, and his tune changes entirely. “Please! Please knot me, Prompto, please baby, come on, come for me.” He puts every ounce of suavity he possesses into the request, and the smooth honeyed tone of his voice tugs Prompto over to the edge, and pulls him over. He sees white momentarily as his climax crashes over him like a typhoon, his knot blossoming to life buried in the sweet warmth of his omega. He flashes forward, and locks his teeth around Talcotts neck, claiming him in the smooth sure movements that could only come with practice. The sensation of the claim is so overpowering that talcott cries out in a strangled voice, coming hot and sticky on his own chest, completely untouched. The pair collapse into each other, and huddle breathlessly for several moments, before Prompto rolls over, gently tugging Talcott with him, and resettling so that he was stretched across his chest._

_“I love you.” He whispers, only to be met with quiet laughter._

_“You’re just saying that because I’m a good fuck.” Talcott teases. Prompto growls quietly, warningly._

_“I’m saying that because I love you.” Talcott blushes, and his eyes flit down._

_“I know. I love you, too.” Prompto nods, and yawns, before reaching a hand up to trace lazy patterns in the others stomach. Light fingertips trace over the blackened scars again, but this time linger for longer, following the intricate patterns like a blind man would a text in braille. The scars are pitch black like the darkest night, like infection, and disease. They started in the middle of his stomach, and worked their way out slowly, like veins , until almost all of him was covered. All but the worst of them were healed now, but Prompto still remembered them all like they were brand new._

_Talcott snaps him out of his reverie by slapping at his hands._

_“Stop it. Please.” Brown eyes won’t quite meet blue ones, and Talcott fidgets as best he’s able while still being tied to the alpha. Prompto whimpers._

_“We have to talk about it sometime babe.” He says quietly, still staring at the sable roadmap covering part of his lovers stomach._

_“We really, really don’t” Talcott insists. Prompto lets it go. Doesn’t press because he’s had this fight enough times to know that it won’t get him anywhere._

_“I miss her too you know.” He says scarcely above a whisper. Talcott ignores the sentiment stubbornly. A few minutes of awkward silence later, he relents, and taps his forehead against the alphas._

_“I know you do. I’m sorry. It just… it still hurts.” He squirms, pulling away with an audible pop, as the knot subsides. He yawns widely and cuddles into the familiar warmth of his alpha. Prompto smiles, and kisses him softly, pulling the blankets up to cover the both of them._

_“G’night babe.” Talcott mumbles wordlessly, and drifts off into the dark, dreamless sleep only afforded the tortured, and the overworked. Though if truth be told, he was honestly a bit of both._

***

“Was it yours Prompto?” Ignis’s voice is quiet, kind, but the question sends the hairs on Promptos neck standing up in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, dropping a spoon full of sugar too vehemently into his coffee, to be entirely convincing. Ignis, rather than being upset or pressing him about it like he might have years ago, merely sighs like the mere act of broaching the subject exhausted him. He didn’t know the half of it.

“Prompto… the two of you have lived together for years. It’s perfectly natural that you should have formed some type of connection, if based on nothing but proximity alone.” He’s careful to keep his voice even, level, as if Prompto was a bomb that might explode.

“We haven’t formed anything, Iggy, we’re roomates, just like we have been since he was seventeen.” Prompto glares off at something in the mid distance, hopes that his words are convincing.

“Prompto. Do you take me for a fool?” his eyes, though unseeing are piercing through him and he squirms under their close scrutiny.

“No. But I don’t know what you’re talking about, I already said.” He takes a too long sip of his coffee. Ignis’s lip twitches, but he shrugs.

“Suppose all’s well that ends well then,” When Prompto detectably bristles, Ignis raises an eyebrow, “Since the child would have had a deadbeat for a father.” Prompto has always had a short fuse, and when baited so directly, he can’t help but to growl.

“You can’t know what might have made him decide not to speak up.” He says quietly. Ignis scoffs.

“I should imagine that reasoning is easy to understand.” Prompto swallows hard.

“Oh yeah?” he asks warily.

“Of course. An omega in heat, a chance to get what one wants, without any of the responsibility of child rearing. Well, it’s no small wonder that would be the path chosen by more unscrupulous alphas.” Prompto bites down hard on his lip to avoid jumping at the bait. Ignis continues. “Just glad Talcott’s back to work, and no longer pretending to be overcome with some imagined malady.” Promptos resolve snaps.

“You have no idea what it was like, Ignis. Watching him get worse every day, watching him get pale, and black veins pop up all over his body. You have _no idea_.” He stares down at the center of the table.

“It can’t possibly have been that bad, more omegas than not suffer miscarriages these days.” The older gentleman says, offhandedly. Prompto growls again.

“What so that makes it ok? He screamed every night! He couldn’t get comfortable, and he… he was getting so /weak/ but he wouldn’t let medic do anything about it. He already loved her, Ignis!” he slams the spoon down, and it clatters against the plate.

“Her, was it?” he says quietly, completely unphased, in that way that was uniquely him.

“Fuck you!” he sighs, knowing he’s beat. “Yeah, she was mine, what of it?” Ignis takes a moment to adjust his glasses before speaking again.   


“that’s actually what I’m here to ask you.” Prompto says nothing, worries his hands under the table. Ignis reaches across, lays a comforting hand on the youngers shoulder. “I’ve no doubt that our king will come back. But we must face the possibility that we may not be here to see it. “ Prompto sighs.

“What, so you’re just here to tell me that it’s cool to fuck a random dude on the off chance N… **he** doesn’t come back?” Prompto stutters and stumbles over the name, still struggling to say it.

“That wasn’t my intention at all. As I said, Noctis will be back. Though if it is within our lifetime or not, is solely between him, and the gods. And Talcott is hardly “a random dude” as you so eloquently put it.” Prompto scoffs and hangs his head in his hands.

“He’s a kid.” He mutters into calloused palms.

“He’s an adult of nineteen, and of perfectly legal age Prompto.” He says taking yet another sip of the black sludge that has gone cold by now, passing for coffee. Prompto doesn’t speak for quite some time.

“I still love him.” He whispers, tearing a napkin to shreds and rolling it between his fingertips.

“I know, Prompto. Everyone around you knows.”

He sighs and chews a ragged trench into his lower lip.

“what… Ignis, what the hell am I supposed to do?” He asks, exhaustedly. The older man sighs and shrugs.

“The same thing we’ve been doing these long nine years. Surviving. And whatever that entails.” He squeezes Promptos shoulder comfortingly, and moves to stand. “Gladio is on the same expedition that Talcott is on, I suspect that they will be back in the next few hours.” He nods one last time, and saunters out of the café, and Prompto runs a hand through his hair, can’t help feeling like he was a whole lot more confused now, than he was when he woke up this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooo, yeah. I know not that many people follow this story. (le sad face) but it's about to start getting really good. in the next few chapters, we can expect to see Noctis return, and won't that be a blast?


	3. I brought you my bullets, you brought me your love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brown eyes cloud over with uncertainty, and the words from earlier echo in Promptos mind ‘I’ve no doubt that our king will come back… but we must face the possibility that we may not be here to see it…’   
> "I mean, Ignis already knows, and… it’s likely other people will figure it out too, and… Talcott, I love you, please, gods, say something."
> 
> orrrrr, the one where we see a deeper side to Prompto and Noctis's relationship, and a possibility of something deeper for Prompto and Talcott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, same format as last time, folx, italics are past action, regular font is current action, *** denotes a change from one to the other. hopefully this isn't utter trash, and a huge huge HUGE shout out to XfirefirafiragaX for sitting with me at ungodly hours, and figuring this shit out. check out her stuff, you won't be sorry! 
> 
> I don't know if anyone's noticed or not, but all of the chapters of this work are named for a song, save this one, which is named for an album. I just felt like it fit too well not to use!

_Prompto feels like shit, but he’s alive. He knows, because every nerve ending tucked under freckle kissed skin is on fire, and his muscles ache like his bone structure is made of lead. The dead don’t suffer like this, this pain is reserved only for the living. He can’t remember the last time he slept more than fifteen minutes at a time, in between Ardyn’s maddening babble, but he thinks, it would have had to have been before they left Cartanica. He would gladly fall into an unceremonious pile in the floor, and sleep until he can forget this place, but Gladio and Ignis are asleep, curled together on one of the impossibly small cots, and Noctis stares up at him with those piercing blue eyes, that make him feel like he’s drowning in the most satiating tempest. He swallows thickly, and leans forward to rest his forehead against his lovers’._

_“You think too loud, did anyone ever tell you that?” he chuckles quietly, but the sound comes out raspy, and broken. Noctis doesn’t seem to notice, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath._

_“Bond with me.” He says, in a quiet rush of breath, like if he doesn’t get it out quickly, he never will. Prompto blinks for a few seconds, scratches nervously at the back of his neck._

_“What, Gralean daemon lair not your idea of a fun friendship building experience? I’m doing the best I can with what I have to work with here, bud.” He jokes, his tone impossibly light, despite the horrors he’s seen here. He has an idea of what Noctis means, but he’s not willing to hope, not after this hell. The prince scoffs, and rolls his eyes, in a perfect display of impatience._

_“Soul bond, Prompto. I want… I want you to be mine.” he looks down, as a gentle flush creeps up his fine features, like he’s afraid of the rejection that the blond never could give him._

_“Noctis…” his voice breaks in the middle of the short name, and he’s afraid that his heart might be shattering right alongside of it. The raven haired man across from him shakes his head and takes a deep breath, grasping at Promptos shaking hands._

_“No. I don’t want to hear it. My father’s dead, the empire is slowly turning into the monsters they’ve created, Luna’s gone… there’s nothing standing in our way, and I want to finally call you mine.”_

_Prompto gulps and his eyes slide closed, barely containing the tears that threaten to escape._

_There are many types of bonds a person can have over a lifetime, all special, all unique. A litter bond, typical of siblings born at the same time or within a few years of one another. A sexual bond, between one or more mates, during shared heats or ruts. Even a breed bond, the sacred pact made between a pair when a child was conceived, powerful enough to change the scent of an omega for the rest of a lifetime. Yet all of those paled in comparison to a soul bond. Soul bonds were permanent, forged between only the most committed of lovers, and made to stand the test of time. A more visceral, physical proof of a bond strong enough to move mountains. Even amongst married couples, a soul bond wasn’t necessarily common, because of the risks. They couldn’t be broken but through death, and in that event caused terrible, indescribable pain to the surviving mate. Prompto shook his head slowly, hesitant._

_“Noct that’s… it’s… forever. It’s like marriage, are you sure-“ The smaller man scoffs, laughs derisively, the sound echoing harshly in the uncomfortable space._

_“I know what it is Prom. And yeah. I’m sure. This war…” he trails off, stares around the room with glazed, unseeing eyes. “This war has taken everything from me. I don’t want it to take you too.”_

_The room is silent, while Prompto worries his hands in his lap, thinking it over. It feels like a lifetime later when he nods, unties the knot of the bandanna he wears._

_“Take… Take your glove off.” Noctis tilts his head to the side, in universal signal of confusion. Prompto takes a steadying breath, and laces his fingers through his lovers._

_“I’ve caused you enough problems already. I’m sure as fuck not going to have someone try to hurt me to get to you.” He says simply, with a determination as sharp and cold as steel. When Noctis gets the glove off, and sets it to the side, Prompto takes a gulp of air, like a man half drowned, and exhales, quickly._

_“Ok, so we need vows, right? Do… do you want to go first or…?” Noctis blushes, and nods, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before he speaks, shakily._

_“I’ll never lose you again.” He looks up, uncertainly, and tears dance in his cerulean eyes. He pulls Promptos arm into his lap gently, and rubs the now bare spot on his bicep tenderly. “it… it’s gonna hurt.” He says quietly, by way of apology, and Prompto nods._

_“Not any more than wondering if you’d come for me. Promise.”_

_Noct makes a quiet sound of apology, and leans forward, baring his fangs. He hovers for a moment or two above pale skin, and Prompto takes a deep breath, nods his permission. Noct closes his eyes, and sinks his teeth in to the warm flesh in front of him._

_Prompto cries out as quietly as he’s able, and immediately, tears are stinging at his eyes. The pain is one of the most intense he’s felt, and it threatens to tear a wail out of his throat. Noct starts to pull back, but he needs to break the skin to solidify the bond. Prompto chokes back the sob that he so desperately wants to hurl to the too-close ceiling, and does his best to croon comfortingly to his mate. Noctis must take some courage from the act, because he bites down more firmly, and the air smells thick and metallic with fresh blood._

_Ironically, the wound starts to feel better almost immediately. It’s bearable, and then it’s somehow_ good _, and Prompto feels his muscles loosen. A warm feeling washes over him, and he all but moans at the comfort of it. It’s not unlike the bonds he’s shared with Noctis before, but it’s so much_ more _. Suddenly, Noctis is the only person in the room, the only person in the universe that matters, and the love they share is palpable. Prompto realizes that he’s laughing, quietly, and Noctis stares at him in concern._

_“Babe? Are you ok?” he asks nervously, his voice a good octave higher than it should be, and thin with worry. Prompto nods, and struggles to form a coherent though._

_“Yeah… it’s… Gods, Noct, it’s so… intense. I… I love you.” Noct blushes and nods._

_“I love you too. Your turn?”_

_The alpha nods, and grabs Noctis’s wrist, cradles it like he’s a treasure, which isn’t far from the truth. He blushes, and smiles lopsidedly._

_“I’ll never lose faith in you.” He promises whisper soft against the soft pulse point of Noctis’s wrist, which he kisses softly before he sinks his teeth in._

_Noct has always been more disciplined than people give him credit for, and it shows in the tiny whimper that falls from his lips. Though Prompto was more forceful in his bite, applying more even pressure, the king makes almost no sound, until the quiet moan that he fails to stop as the wound begins to bleed. Several long moments later, when he’s caught his breath again, he stares at Prompto with an expression that words fail to justify. His chapped lips open and close, several times, as though he can’t manage to find the right words. Prompto nods his understanding, dropping his head forward to nuzzle into his neck. It’s quite some time later, that Noctis finds his voice, presses a gentle kiss to the alphas neck and purrs._

_“Mine.”_

_Prompto smiles tiredly, holding the glove out for Noctis to slide his hand into. Once it’s on and nimble fingers work to retie the black bandanna around his arm, he hums happily, laying down on the tiniest bed he’s ever seen, and pulling his soul mate to lay against him._

_“Yours.”_

***

The front door of the apartment creaks like something straight out of a horror movie when Prompto shoulders it open, and he cringes. Such a god awful sound. He’s more gentle with closing it, in attempts to avoid a repeat, but it’s for naught, and the same creak rings out, sending a shudder down his spine. He sighs, as he flips the deadbolts. _‘needs lithium grease.’_ He thinks to himself, as his blue eyes scan the room. _‘which is… somewhere.’_ He chews his lip in thought, and pads over to the kitchen, to glance at the table. There’s a proverbial battlefield of junk, gears from an abandoned project of his, a fish eye lens he salvaged from an abandoned apartment, a multiplicity of hunt postings, and search and rescue orders, a half dissected revolver, and some ten odd bullets. He spies the object of his search, the can of grease tipped over on its side, and long ago divested of the straw that would aid in the close quarters job of fixing the hinges. He clicks his tongue and sighs, rolling his eyes to himself. ‘time to improvise then.’

He heads into the bedroom, and the small bathroom beyond, and pulls open a drawer, digging around until he finds a box of cotton swabs. ‘perfect.’ He bends the swab gently, making sure it’s the plastic type he needs. Satisfied with the item, he heads back to the kitchen, and grabs the shears off of their spot on the spice rack. He trims both ends of the swab and deposits them into the trash can, taking the hollowed tube to the can of grease. It’s not a perfect fit, but it’s workable. He takes it back to the living room, and sprays both hinges. He opens the door, and swings it back and forth a few times, both to work the grease into the small cracks, and to test that the sound is gone. Pleased with himself, he locks the door again, and heads back to the kitchen to clean up the graveyard of his best intentions.

It wasn’t that Prompto enjoyed doing household tasks, per se, but it was habit, by now. In the first few weeks and months of darkness, he had needed the tasks, to keep his mind from running rampant, wondering where Noctis was, if he was ok, and if he could really bring back the light. He would spend hours, asking Ignis what he needed, could he help, are you sure, resorting to offering to run errands for pretty much anyone when that plan was shut down. When all else failed, he cleaned and recleaned his guns, simply so his hands, and mind could be busy. By the time he moved in with Talcott, in year six, he was used to spending time on chores, which was something the omega appreciated. He was fastidious, particular in the way that he preferred for things to be done, but always quiet and forgiving in his admonishments when a chore was forgotten. It was one of the things that Prompto loved most about him, in everything he was kind. He wasn’t cross when the alpha forgot to do things, or even if he simply chose not to. Which is probably how the kitchen table got to be in the state that it was. Prompto sighes, and sets about the task of clearing off the table. When that’s done, he moves to the sink, and clears up the dishes from the night before, and wipes down the counters, for good measure. Satisfied with the state of the kitchen, he retreats to the bedroom, flops down on the bed, and sighs, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He spies an odd tuft of fur, peeking out from under Talcotts pillow, and digs around, to figure out what it is. A small white bear with soft fur and a missing eye, replaced with a button that doesn’t quite match up with the original one stares back at him. His breath catches in his throat.

***

_Prompto’s been gone for three days, clearing survivors out of a makeshift camp outside of Longwhythe. As rescues go, this one is pretty successful. All of the survivors make it to Lestallum and are able to be sorted into available apartments and caravans. The lodgings are far from five star, but it beats being daemon chow. Prompto lingers behind the rest of the hunters, makes sure that the refugees are comfortable, or as comfortable as they can be. A young girl, maybe six or seven runs up to him excitedly, a teddy bear, nearly black with dirt dangles from one of her hands._

_“You saved us! I thought we were gonna die there.” Prompto makes a nervous sound, tries not to think that a kid this age shouldn’t even know how to say those words in that order._

_“My pleasure!” he says with a stretched thin smile. The little girl eyes him carefully, sharp eyes roaming over his entire face._

_“You smell funny.” She says thoughtfully, twisting one leg of the bear. “Like my momma… before she died.” Her voice is quiet, and wavers slightly. Prompto kneels down to be at eye level with her, and frowns._

_“What do you mean by smell funny?” he asks, trying to keep all of the tension he feels out of his voice. The little girl just smiles, and thrusts the toy out at him._

_“Give this to your wife!” she says, excitedly. “It kept me safe! Maybe it can keep her safe too!” Prompto opens his mouth and tries to argue, tries to hand the bear back over, tries to explain he doesn’t have a wife, but a harried looking man calls out to the child, and she runs off, waving excitedly. “Thanks again, mister!”_

_Prompto stares at the bear for a good ten minutes, still crouched in the middle of a side street, before his tired legs finally find the will to stand up and carry him home. He sets the bear on the coffee table, and shambles back into their room. When he tells Talcott the bizarre story, he cries._

_“This darkness is so fucked up.” He whimpers, curled in on himself. Prompto can’t bring himself to argue. Eventually, they fall asleep, curled in on one another, and when Prompto wakes up the next morning, he finds the bear sitting on top of a pile of neatly folded blankets. It’s freshly laundered, and dried, so that it’s fur is soft and fluffy, rather than the mess of mats it had been before, and the eye that was previously missing has been replaced. When Prompto asks about it, over dinner, Talcott just shrugs, like it’s nothing._

_“Seemed a shame to leave it like it was.” Prompto smirks at the way Talcotts hand hovers against his stomach for just a second._

***

Prompto wakes from a nap he didn’t realize he’d taken, to Talcott purring happily at him.

“Miss me?” he asks, smirkingly. Prompto sighs, and reaches out for the omega.

“Gods, yes. ‘mere.” Talcott laught, good naturedly, and pulls back just slightly.

“no, ‘m gross. Lemme shower first.” Prompto whines and drops his arm dramatically, earning himself a snicker from his lover. “Besides, you’ve got Buttons to cuddle.” He says, disappearing into the bathroom. Prompto blinks, and stares down at the soft plush, that he must have fallen asleep holding.

Talcott doesn’t take long in the shower, coming back to cuddle, almost before Prompto has the chance to miss him. He shimmies into a pair of sweats, and crawls into the bed, purring quietly.

“have a good day?” he asks, nuzzling into the curve of Promptos neck. The alpha croons quietly, running his fingers through still damp hair, lovingly.

“Interesting to say the least.” He offers vaguely. Talcott quirks an eyebrow in questioning and Prompto sighs, speaking with eyes closed.

“I uh… I talked to Ignis. He asked… about the baby.” Talcotts relaxed purring stops, and the air smells of distress for just a second, before he answers.

“w-what… what did he say?” he says in a voice that he fights to keep steady. Prompto whimpers, and noses at his lovers neck, desperate to comfort him.

“He asked if she was mine. I said I had no idea what he was talking about but…” Talcott supplies the end of his sentence for him.

“But he’s Ignis.” Prompto sighs in agreement.

“Exactly.” There’s a beat of awkward silence, before Talcott asks gently, like he’s afraid of the answer

“Do you think he’s gonna tell anyone?” Prompto considers it for a moment, but shakes his head.

“No. but I really don’t care if he does. I’m not ashamed of you. We’ve been together nearly three years, we have to stop hiding sometime.” He feels a psychosomatic itch in his arm at the admission, but he resists reaching to scratch at it. Talcott hums thoughtfully.

“I guess so. But if you’re not comfortable…” he leaves the statement hanging, and for the millionth time, Prompto feels himself falling that much more in love. He reaches up a gentle hand to cup the omegas face.

“It’s ok. I love you.” Talcott blushes and looks down, briefly.

“I love you too.” Prompto cocks his head to the side, scenting the air briefly, before putting a hand to Talcotts forehead.

“Babe, you’re burning up.” He says, voice dripping concern. Talcott blushes, and whines quietly.

“Preheat. Started this morning.” Prompto pulls his mate to rest against his chest, and croons softly.

“You need to be getting rest then, while you can. Did you tell command?” Talcott rolls his eyes.

“yes, babe. It’s not my first heat. They know I’ll come back in when it’s over.” Prompto nods, and finds himself staring at Talcotts neck, at the scent gland nestled just under and behind his ear. Talcott catches the stare, and blushes again. Prompto feels the rumble in his chest, before he’s consciously aware of the words he speaks.

“Do you… want me to claim you?” Talcotts eyes go wide, but he doesn’t immediately say anything, which has Prompto rushing to fill the silence. “I mean, since Ignis already knows… it’s likely other people will figure it out too, and… Talcott, I love you, please, gods, say something.”

They’ve bonded before, both in especially desperate lone cycles, and shared ones, as their bodies began to synch up, over time. No, the two sharing a bond is commonplace by now, but they’re always careful, never biting hard enough to bruise, to alter their natural scents, or open themselves up to suspicion of anything. The gentle nips they share, in spots that aren’t scent glands, or near reverent nibbles over necks, wrists, thighs, are enough to mingle their scents for an hour or two at a time, but never longer than that. Talcott swallows hard.

“You mean like… an actual claim? Like… people would know?” his question sounds ridiculous to his own ears, but he can’t risk a miscommunication, needs to know exactly what the alpha means. Prompto blushes and squirms uncomfortably.

“yeah… I mean, until the bruise fails at least.” He nervously brings a hand to cover his bicep. “I wouldn’t break the skin, obviously… I’m not… ready for that.” He says apologetically. Talcott nods, excited.

“I… yes. Yes, I would love that. Are you… sure?” brown eyes cloud over with uncertainty, and Ignis’s words from earlier echo in Promptos mind ‘ _I’ve no doubt that our king will come back… but we must face the possibility that we may not be here to see it…’_ the alpha smiles warmly, and leans in for a soft, lingering kiss.

“I am if you are.” He whispers, staring intently into Talcotts eyes. The omega giggles quietly, and nods.

“Yes. Yes, gods, yes.” He breathes happily. He leans in to capture Promptos lips in a heated kiss, and moans quietly, as the alphas hand roams over his chest, to settle at his side. Prompto smirks, and shakes his head gently.

“Babe. Take it easy, you know how your heats are.” He chides lovingly. The omega whines and paws at him for a few seconds, before finally relenting, and settling more into the pillows.

“I guess… I am a little tired.” He admits reluctantly. Prompto smirks, and pulls him in for a cuddle.

“I know. I’m not going anywhere.” He reassures, tracing reverent fingers down the smaller males spine. Talcott purrs in response, and yawns.

“Promise?” he whimpers, sleepily.

Prompto smirks, and kisses his forehead.

“Promise.” The pair wiggle a few more times, settling into more comfortable positions, before finally drifting off to a comfortable sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. the plot thickens, y'all. the plot thickens. 
> 
> side note: I'm not gonna lie, I channeled the crap out of my spouse for this chapter, he's exactly the kind of guy who starts a million projects and leaves them scattered across the kitchen table. he's also who taught me to use plastic q-tips as a replacement straw for compressed air, and WD-40. thanks, hon!
> 
> Join me on Tumblr, @thejovialkynnadyg-ray, I do things from time to time!

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh, Ignis. Smarter than you give him credit for. Hopefully no one hated this! Comments are the balm that soothes my sadistic, sorrow-filled soul, so drop one maybe? I'll love you forever! Visit me on Tumblr, @ Thejovialkynnadyg-ray, I do things!


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